Saying I Love You
by MacyNell
Summary: This story takes place a couple of months after my first story, A Quiet Knight Alone. Same characters and world state, but this time from the Inquisitor's point of view. Cullen and Trevelyan struggle to maintain their relationship while dealing with the Inquisition.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I open my eyes and it's dark. Intensely dark. The kind of dark so devoid of light it's disorienting. Hot, acrid panic starts to rise in my throat before I remember. Skyhold. I'm in Skyhold. I am safe. I am not alone. The fear subsides as fast as it appears. My heartbeat slows. I blink, though the darkness does not change. It's an hour or so before dawn, I think.

It's probably not surprising that dread tugs at me constantly. The effects of the Fade has had on my life, on my body...they are terrifying. I don't understand the bizarre situation in which I now find myself, and my biggest fear is that I will fail. Thank the Maker I am not alone.

_Cullen_. As my body acknowledges his presence, I relax against him. He sleeps serenely at my back, a strong arm curved over me, his face nestled against my neck. Every breath he takes is a delicious little tingle skittering down my spine. It feels wonderful. The man is sound asleep, and still he is every inch a temptation. Not for the first time in these many months, I wish I could burrow myself next to him and hide from the rest of the world.

Typically, he is the first to wake, but I am the early bird this morn. I suppose I should at least attempt to follow his usual example and be responsible… which means getting out of this bed and getting a jump on the day. Just the thought of leaving my lovely cocoon prompts a forlorn sigh, but I slowly slide from under his arm, doing my best not to disturb him. It isn't enough. I've barely moved a few inches when he reaches out to find me, a sure hand skimming down my arm. "Where are you going without a proper good morning, siren?" he murmurs. I can see nothing, but I hear the smile in his voice.

I reverse course, easing back into his sphere of warmth as his arms close around me. I run gentle fingers through his hair, curling now courtesy of the damp night air. "Good morning, sunshine," I reply, "I'm trying not to wake you. How am I doing?"

His laughter shakes the bed. "Well enough, considering that it's likely impossible." He has a point. Cullen maintains a soldier's training and sleeps lightly. Sneaking away definitely would've been a feat. "It's sweet of you to try," he adds, brushing a kiss across my temple. He stretches languidly and I can't help but smile. Seems we've switched roles this day. My smile broadens at his next words. "It's quite a bit before dawn. Must we get up _right _now?"

Maker, he _does _feel good. Responsibility can wait. I snuggle closer. "We've a little time. I'd only thought to get an early start because you were still snoring."

He pokes me playfully in the side. "I do not snore, my lady."

"Oh really? Tell that to my poor ears, ser knight," I jest, poking him back. I wouldn't deny him a few extra minutes of precious sleep, but secretly I'm glad he caught me. It's becoming a necessity, having time like this with him. Just as I begin to plan a subtle seduction, I feel his fingers bunch in the white cotton of my nightgown. A necessary evil in case someone barges in during the night, right now the voluminous atrocity seems to be in Cullen's way. Casually he pulls, and the hem begins to inch its way up my legs. I try to act as if I don't notice, but I'm shaking with suppressed laughter and can't hide it for long. "Ser Cullen, are you preparing to ravish me?" I accuse, laughing outright as he ceases abruptly, a sneaky boy caught in the cookie jar.

"Indeed not," he answers. The familiar tone in his voice tells me differently. "It's just that I've been thinking. I am no longer of the Order, yet I'm still effectively a templar. And I've sworn my fealty to you. It would be a shame if we did not make use of it."

I turn to him, letting my palms smooth across his chest. "Very true. Although...I have spent most of my life in the Circle….I'm familiar with most of the templars' expertise. I am curious as to how this relates to what's under my nightgown. Do your skills entitle you to privileges about which I've not yet learned?" I am enjoying myself very much.

He laces his fingers with mine. "It's much the opposite, your Eminence. You are the one who is entitled, and solely so under our present circumstances. To my protection, I mean. In these perilous times, demons may be lurking anywhere. As your own personal templar protector, it would be my duty to, uh, _inspect _your person. Diligently."

I laugh into the darkness. "Hmmm, I see. And thus you are offering these services? You would search me? For demons? Right now? Am I to assume that if you found such a entity, you would...um... ease my torment?...From the demon, that is."

"Oh yes, my lady, you have my word as a knight."

"Truly? Well, now that you mention it, there is a spot that is rather..._bothersome_ at the moment. There could be demons at fault, if you'd care to check…?"

"You have but to show me, _Your Worship_." This he says very low while nuzzling my ear, making me giggle absurdly and squirm just a bit.

"Very well," I reply, yanking the hideous nightgown over my head and tossing it to the floor with a soft _whoosh_. I take his hand in mine, hesitating only a half-breath, and guide it up the inside of my thigh, relishing the delicate graze of his well-earned calluses across my skin. Regardless, I am fighting my own embarrassment. I've had other lovers, but never like _this_. This level of communion, of emotional risk,is new and frightening...but I refuse to let my silly fears and inhibitions rob me of the joy so freely found in his arms. And so, as a searing flush rages across my face despite the impenetrable darkness, I find the nerve to move my legs apart and place his hand on the sable curls between them.

His quiet groan of approval coils around my ear as he discovers there is not even a scrap of cloth between me and his intentions. He is now breathing heavier - and no doubt is blushing just as furiously as I am. What a pair we make. "Right here?" he taunts, teasing me lightly with his fingertips, "You are sure? This may be rather delicate. I will need to see what I'm about, my lady." Removing his hand in spite of my whimper of protest, he leans over me and lights the candle on the bedside table.

In the sudden flare of light he is gloriously naked. Training and battle have given him the defined, muscular body of a warrior, and his skin is golden and smooth save only for the stark white relief of a myriad of scars...scars that my hands beg to soothe, scars that I never tire of kissing. His hair is adorably tousled, and as I'd expected, pink stains his handsome face. I forget the candle was not my idea. And then his gaze is on me, and I can't contain a shiver as it glides over me, making me feel every bit the siren he has dubbed me. It's clear that he is no longer interested in saucy wordplay. "You're so beautiful, Trevelyan," he breathes between slow, sultry kisses...to my shoulder, my neck, my breasts, " 'My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my _life _is _yours_.' " _Holy Andraste_, it's most sinful, how he dares to quote the Chant in bed. It is also incredibly arousing and he knows it. With a wicked smile, he slides his hand down my body to once again concentrate on the fiery need between my legs, and I arch into his touch. Capturing my mouth with his briefly, he then slowly kisses his way down the path his hand made, leaving a strategic trail of lovebites in his wake. I'm nearly manic with want by the time he replaces his fingers with lips and tongue...and it's sublime and miraculous and I'm moaning aloud now, nonsensical love words and praise cascading from my lips…I can't help it. This intimacy...so raw...so exquisite...it brings the sting of tears. Shoving my hands into his hair, I barely remember not to clutch too tightly. The sensations overwhelm me and I'm lost...no time...no space...there is only Cullen and the pleasure. When I think nothing could possibly feel better than this, he slips his hands under my bottom, lifting me to him. It's too much. Release hovers over me like a wave...and then, oh _then_, it's crashing through me and I'm awash in it, carried by it. Vaguely I'm aware that I am repeating his name. Oh Maker, I might be shouting it, I don't know...

Slowly I drift back into being, realizing that he is holding me, kissing me, and I have no words. I only know that the impulse to return the pleasure is too strong to deny. I _need _to touch him. Instinctively, I wrap my fingers around the sleek, hard length of him...caressing...stroking...my desire to please manifesting in a warm, tingling swirl of soft violet magic. He closes his eyes and whispers encouragement so faintly I can just hear him above my own breathing. I watch the ecstasy play across his beloved features with increasing fervor. It's a heady thing, knowing I can do that to him. Focusing my thoughts, aiming to take him over the edge, I let the magic surge just enough. Hissing through his teeth, he grabs my wrist, pumping himself into my hand, sharp and fast - once, twice, thrice - before forcing himself to stop. With a heavy, shaky breath, the magic is gone, snuffed out by a templar pushed too far. "_Bloody Void_," he pants, "I nearly…. Too soon, Trev. You sorely test my restraint." I only smile, since that's exactly the idea - and because I made him curse, which satisfies the imp in me. He answers my grin with a very naughty one of his own. "Oh _siren_, you leave me no choice. _Now _you are in trouble," he promises.

He climbs over me to stand next to the bed. I am confused. "What…?" I begin.

"Trust me," he urges, tugging on my hand, encouraging me to join him.

Intrigued, I give in. I slide off the mattress and stand next to him. "Alright, sunshine, I'll play with you." His laughter is perhaps somewhat sinister, but his smile is radiant.

He turns me toward the bed, standing behind me. Sweeping my hair over my shoulder and kissing my nape, he then tilts my head back to cover my lips with his own, mouth open, hungry...his hands seemingly everywhere at once. When I'm weak-kneed against him and he's all but holding me up, he gently bends me at the waist, guiding me down until my face rests on the crisp linen. I let it happen, too fascinated...too curious to see where this is leading. My eyes widen, my face reddens, as I feel his hand move...slowly...sensually...along my spine and over my bottom, curving under and up to stoke those fires between my legs once again, making me roll my hips against his palm. His voice surprises me when it interrupts my sighs. "Do you know, Trevelyan, what I think about sometimes in the War Room..." Maker, that voice is warm honey. "...when you're leaning over the table, saying all those important things with this sweet behind in the air?" I'm vulnerable...exposed...and completely enthralled by his words. "I think about you, just like this, naked and wet and bending over in front of me. And siren, then I think about _this_." He grasps my hips and grinds himself against my aching softness. It's bold and rough, and I am stunned. And more excited than I have ever been in my life. He slips a knee between my thighs, nudging, spreading my stance slightly. The bed is tall, and I'm nearly on tiptoes now. And I think I've forgotten how to breathe. "I have wanted this for so long, siren." I feel his arousal poised at my very core and that's all the warning there is. I gasp as he fills me. Again and again. Holy Maker, it feels so different and yet still so _incredible _from this angle. I react, rocking back in counterpoint to his steady rhythm and he voices his appreciation. Affirmatively. Resoundingly. It's quite...it's...oh sweet Andraste...I'm so _close _already...his name, a plea on my lips. "_Oh_..Trevelyan...I love you" he groans, increasing the tempo. I clutch frantically at the sheet under my hand…

Ten minutes later, I securely belt my dressing gown and take the candle, leaving a thoroughly sated templar sprawled amid the tangled covers, grinning like a jester. Admittedly, I'm still somewhat dazed by the fantastic thing that just happened between us. I'd much prefer to recover my wits in my sunshine's arms, but it's my turn to get breakfast and we're now running late. So, with one last longing look at the cozy bed and the even cozier man within, I venture forth to the kitchen as quickly and quietly as I can.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Normally, it's an easy enough task. Just slip in, light the fire, put together a breakfast tray for two and slip out again without rousing anyone else. Though it's too early for Cook, on this morning a fire already burns in the kitchen grate. It's homey glow reveals Leliana sitting alone at the rough wooden table, sipping something from a cup. So much for a clean getaway.

"Good morning, Inquisitor," Leliana greets me. "I pray you _slept_ well." Her demeanor is nothing less than kind and gracious, but only a fool would miss the faint innuendo or its meaning. I assume by now the entire keep knows that I'm involved with my military adviser. It would be irrational to expect those with whom we live to not notice that we share a room, after all - but for some reason I'd thought we'd have a little more time before we had to deal with the consequences. Apparently our time is up, and I make a mental note to tread gingerly.

"Thank you, Leliana. I had a most pleasant night," I reply, smiling as warmly as I can. Perhaps if I look busy I can avoid this altogether and get on with my morning. Owning that this probably makes me a coward, I bustle over to the counter and grab a large tray. A rummage through the bread bin yields a medium crusty loaf, fairly fresh, and I place it on the tray with a wedge of cheese. Two apples, two cups of strong honey-laced tea and a pitcher of water complete my small feast.

"My, you must be hungry this morning." Again, it is said so pleasantly it would be hard to accuse her of fishing, but that is exactly what she's doing. I do not intend to take the bait.

Turning with a smile, I agree. "I am! Starving in fact." I pick up my tray, and edging toward the door, add, "It was nice to have someone else awake with me this morning besides the birds, Leliana. I will see you in the War Room in a bit? Shall we say… around half past six?" This is the usual meeting time, so it's clear my words are only a way to extricate myself from the conversation. I turn carefully and move toward the door, slowed down by the width and weight of the tray.

"And Ser Cullen? He also slept well, I trust?"

I have to admire her tactical sense. With so little effort her hook is set, bringing me to an abrupt halt on the threshold. As much as I want to keep walking, I cannot let the comment pass. I had already congratulated myself on making a graceful exit, too. I should have known better, but I'm still bitterly disappointed. It appears I've not yet earned as much respect as I'd hoped. Almost as bad, we will have to settle for cold tea today. Cullen will not be pleased.

I turn and slowly make my way to the table and set my tray down with deliberate care. Letting out the breath I now realize I've been holding, I take the seat across from Leliana. Only then do I look her in the eye. Her mouth is quirked up in a half-smile, and she raises her eyebrows at what must be an awfully unpleasant expression on my face. I pray my voice remains steady. "Your curiosity is getting the better of you it seems. If you have something to say or rather, to _ask_, now would be as good a time as any. I will be as open as I can possibly be. I've nothing to hide."

I have muddled her composure a bit. She looks confounded by my complete lack of finesse. She doesn't realize yet that I have neither time nor patience for Orlesian games, but she soon will. I only hope she doesn't also realize the main reason this is so is because I have no talent for them at all...and that a poor imitation of hubris is really my only weapon in these situations. Her face reverts to a mask of cool reserve as she thinks about her next move. Her impressive intellect is unmistakable and I can practically see the wheels turning. I hold up my hand just as she opens her mouth to speak. "Don't try to play me, bard," I warn her. "It will be a waste of your time." _Ooh_, that is good... I actually sound like I know what I'm about.

She closes her mouth with a snap, her lips tight and dour. Her eyes narrow dangerously for a brief moment. The room is so quiet, I can imagine I hear the tea cooling. Remarkably, she then relaxes and her eyes soften. It's like looking at a different person altogether. She sighs on a smile, and for the first time in my presence the smile seems genuine. I am floored that my bluff seems to have worked and I struggle not to let my surprise show. "I am sorry, Inquisitor," she says "That was unforgivably rude of me. I suppose I am only concerned and worried…and maybe just a bit jealous, as well."

"Please, I've asked you to call me Trevelyan. Of course I accept your apology. It's nothing, really...but I need you to explain the rest. I don't understand."

She looks at me for a long moment before she speaks again. "This..._endeavour _we have before us...it's the most important thing I've ever done. Honestly, I'm afraid of anything that might prevent me from doing my part…"

I might as well address the issue straight on. "And you think my relationship with Cullen is going to hinder that in some way?" _Damn it_. This will never do. "Leliana, you mustn't. I have discussed it with him many times. He admires your abilities and is depending on your expertise just as much as I am."

"I know. I trust Cullen," she replied matter-of-factly, "It's…"

"Me you don't trust," I finish for her. Not completely unexpected. Hearing it to my face is still a punch in the gut.

Her assessing eyes take my measure. She shakes her head. "No, not that, exactly. You are turning out to be everything we need. But what if you are unknowingly influenced by your own feelings? It would be natural, and it's an issue worth consideration, is it not?"

While her point is not unreasonable, a tendril of irritation works its way up my spine. I straighten in my seat. "I'm not some naive miss. I'm not about to make strategic decisions based on which of my advisers makes my toes curl. I understand how high the stakes are, and believe you me, I will always have the Inquisition's best interests at heart. _But _I will not give up the finest man I have ever known or apologize for eking out a little happiness in order to prove it!" I am surprised by my own vehemence….intimidated by it, even. I cover my face and rub my eyes, getting a rein on my temper. When I have simmered down, I backtrack a bit. "Please, Leliana, forgive me. I'm sorry for snapping. I understand your unease, and in your shoes, I know I'd worry too. You did do the right thing, coming to me, despite my poor reaction. I want you _all _to do that. We are a _team_. That is what we need this whole thing to be...a closely knit, well-functioning team."

Thankfully, she looks relieved. Her eyes drop to her unattended cup, the first sign she is backing off from her initial approach. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry I questioned you. And I do feel better, hearing the conviction in your voice." A sheepish grin steals across her pretty face. She's twisting her fingers together in front of her, as if she is nervous. It's uncharacteristic for such a calculating woman. Soft blue eyes rise to regard mine once again. "And I've made a hypocrite of myself, I'm afraid. My...concern wasn't completely unselfish, Inqui-..._Trevelyan_. I had hopes that we - you and I, I mean...well, I'd hoped we might be..._close._"

I'm of a sudden very wary and I am sure it shows on my face. Such inelegance from Leliana is unusual, and therefore suspicious…._and_ does she mean what it sounds like she means? Surely not. "Close? You and I? Well, certainly, there is no reason we cannot..." Her expression makes it clear she certainly _does _mean what it sounds like, and I can't help the red hue that suffuses my cheeks. This is most unexpected. "_Oh_. Well. I'm flattered. You are...very beautiful. But you must know I intend to be _close _with Cullen for some time to come." I am angry with myself now. Why can't I just say what I mean when it comes to this? "_Oh for the Maker's sake_, it's far more than that. Leliana, I am...I'm in love with him. He is everything I have ever wanted...all I am likely to ever want." There. I said it. Out loud. In regular conversation. Not to him, perhaps, but still...

"Oh, I know," she says, unsurprised and resigned. "I knew by the way you looked at him even before we arrived here. You should be more careful. Your eyes, they say everything."

Again I feel a blush heat my face. My complexion is the bane of my existence sometimes. "I didn't even know then myself," I protest, and Leliana just smiles. Damn, that's right. Bard. Unwittingly, I smile back. "Okay, I confess. I was very attracted to him from the moment I met him. My circumstance...my position...it wasn't easy for either of us. But I am lucky. I can talk to him. He...well, he _understands _me. That's not always how it is between lovers."

"No, it's not. You _are _lucky to have found it. It is rare…" She looks past me as if she is remembering another time and place. "I've seen it before, though" she says almost wistfully before her attention finds me again. Propping her chin in her hand, she looks at me in companionable silence for a few moments. "So…," she continues with a conspiratorial grin, "is he _good_?"

_What?_ She couldn't be asking about..."I beg your pardon?" I ask, shocked. This woman is outrageous, and yet...and yet I think like her. I think I like her very much. On the heels of this realization, I can no longer keep my laughter at bay. It bursts forth with such an embarrassingly girlishness that when Leliana joins in seconds later, anyone listening might think we are a couple of fourteen-year-olds.

"So?" she finally manages, "I _do _want to know. With the rest of us, he's so _very _serious all the time." She pulls a surly face in a fair imitation of Cullen's on-duty persona and snickers. "What's he _really _like behind that bedroom door?" Just the question threatens to set my face aflame all over again. What would she say if I told her that Ser Cullen is free and happy and playful and naughty when no one else is looking? Would she be surprised if she knew that the staid templar is not _always _so dignified, that what he did to me only minutes ago is not the least bit seemly by society's standards? I am a beacon of crimson simply thinking about ever sharing such information.

"Yes, Inquisitor, do tell," interrupts a distinctive voice from behind me, yanking me out of my revery. I whip my head around to see Varric strolling into the kitchen, grinning avidly.

"Varric! Maker's blood, you scared me half to death!" I exclaim. I take a bracing breath. I'm not sure I'm in any state to navigate these waters. "Look, you two," I say, finding that tone between firm and friendly, "this is not fitting breakfast conversation, I think." I glance at Leliana and wink. "Though...to answer your _first _question...yes. _Very_. I'm just glad sound doesn't carry in this hunk of stone." As she bursts into laughter once again, I stand and pick up my tray, intent upon making it out of the door this time.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Inquisitor," Varric taunts. For the second time in one morning, I am frozen on the edge of making my escape. I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. His smile is both warm and teasing and I'm inclined to return his banter. Behind him I see Cassandra about to enter the kitchen through the dining hall door, and I think better of saying what I had been about to say. I throw Varric an apologetic smile, wish Cassandra a quick good morning, and beat a hasty retreat.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I re-enter our chamber to find Cullen in his trousers, sans shirt, cinching the last buckle on his curiously complicated boots. He has tamed his unruly locks with military precision. The rest of his armor lies neatly piled on the floor before him. A fire crackles merrily and the lamps have been lit. This is as close to domestic bliss as I am likely ever to get, and I am going to enjoy it. He smiles at me in thanks for breakfast and takes the tray, placing it on the table. Sipping his tea, he crinkles his nose in disgust. "It's cold," he grumbles.

I laugh at his sulky-little-boy's expression. "Sorry, sunshine," I apologize. "I was sort of ambushed in the kitchen. It was...tricky."

He arches a brow. "Really? By whom? No one else is ever up this early. Well, except me." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and I groan at his jest, but then laugh despite myself. He produces a spare knife and begins slicing the bread and cheese.

"Oh, believe me, it was a veritable parade. But at first, it was just Leliana. She was worried about your considerable influence on me. No, that's not quite right. She trusts _you_,but worries my, uh, _association _with you will affect my decisions. I believe I convinced her that I'm not a complete ninny." Sliding into my chair, I take a slice each of cheese and bread, layer them, and take a bite. Cullen does the same and then balks at another sip of his cold tea.

He sets the cup down. "Good. We must make this work." Glancing up at me self-consciously, he blurts, "Do you think you could…?" He waves his hand in the air over his tea. Hmm. I do believe he is actually suggesting that I use _magic _to heat his tea. I stare, astonished. As much as he has come to prefer a creative mage in his bed, he has to this point seemed uncomfortable with magic elsewhere in our everyday lives. Could that be changing? "Please?" he asks, so low I can barely hear him. My heart flips at this quiet little milestone. There's a rush of...what? Pride? Hope? Without making him suffer further humiliation, I nonchalantly fulfill his request. He tests the tea, smiling at its warmth. "Thank you, Trevelyan. I love you." he says, so easily. I return his smile. I do love him madly.

We eat in silence for a time, but I feel him studying my face. Eventually, he voices his unease. "The influence issue with Leliana... that's not all, is it?" he asks.

I swallow and clear my throat. "Uh..._no_. Think about it a moment. You know what this means. Our grace period is _over_. Our cat is well and truly out of the bag. Cullen, she asked if you _slept _well."

"She….what? Why in Thedas...?" he stammers, as flustered as I had been.

"It was a shot across the bow, it seems. It did force my hand, so you might say it was an astute strategy. And it's not as if we've tried to keep it a secret. Everyone has simply been too polite to mention it. Until now." I allow myself a fortifying gulp of my tea before I continue, "But once it was out there, she seemed to accept it. My bard and I got on, actually. She plays the game well, I'll give her that."

He contemplates a moment, looking at me thoughtfully. "You know, it may not be the worst thing for you to learn a bit of that from her. And Vivienne too. It's a skill that could come in handy...at some point." He's fiddling around with my fingers as he says this, which tells me that he means it, and he's worried I'm uneasy with the prospect.

Somewhat puzzled at his stance, I can't even imagine myself attempting that level of subterfuge. It makes me laugh. "You overestimate my abilities, Cul." He says nothing, just continues to look at me dotingly. "Oh, very well, I will try if you think it's important. But I'm telling you, if my conversation with her this morning is any indication, she is far too skilled for me to even halfway match her. Oh, and I think she propositioned me."

"_That _does not surprise me," he drawls, flashing me a libertine's grin. For several seconds, I can't take my eyes off of his mouth, that sexy scar. My eyes wander down his bare chest, the line of burnished hair that disappears into his trousers. Oh, those tight trousers...Maker's breath, I'm _ogling_. This selfsame man has quite masterfully attended my needs this morning...twice...and _still _I'm distracted by thoughts of...well, I've become a wanton. Over a _templar_, no less. A big, strong, incredibly handsome _templar_….

I give myself a mental shake. He's going to think I'm addled. "It doesn't? It caught me completely off guard...though now that I think about it, I wonder if it was sincere at all. I'm sure it's not the first time she's tried to use her wiles to her advantage. But at the time, it quite rattled my cage. I was so startled, I just blurted out that l'm in lo- …. um..." My face is a beet. I clear my throat again. "I just started babbling about...you."

He is full of mischief, and he leans forward. "Is that so? Now I'm _really _interested. What did you say?" He is having far too much fun. I have indeed walked into it. I choose to deflect.

"She asked about your..._performance_." _There_. That should divert him.

His expression changes very little. If anything, he looks even more pleased with himself. Huh. Not the reaction I expected. Calmly, he pushes to his feet and reaches for me, pulling me up out of my seat and into his arms. "Did she, now?" he smirks, "And what did you tell her, siren?"

I am ensnared by those tawny eyes. They work like truth serum. "I may have insinuated that you and I...ah...that _we _make a great deal of _noise_. In bed. Like, during sex." I am quite sure that my cheeks are now the color of a ripe tomato.

For an inkling of a moment he looks horrified, and he exhales on a startled bark of what is probably laughter, but could just as easily be dismay. He takes several seconds to digest my confession as the inevitable blush creeps across his cheeks. And then, albeit slowly, he smiles. "At least you didn't lie," he says softly, so near to me I can see the flecks of green in his eyes. He closes the gap between us for a quick, hard kiss and then leads me toward his waiting pile of armor. He's laughing to himself...and rather smugly, too, by my way of thinking. "I wouldn't worry about this morning," he reassures me, looking back in time to catch the tension that I know is cramping my expression. He stops and wraps me in a hug. "Hold your chin up, Trev," he soothes. "We both knew what we were doing when we decided to flout regulation. You were the one who convinced me that we should not have to wait, remember? This is a special case...isn't that what you said? Well, you were right, siren. It will even out. Everyone will get used to our arrangement in time. Eventually they will all realize that you are more than stubborn enough to insist upon making your own decisions without any undue influence from me or anyone else." He pulls back, ducking a little to look me in the eye, his face serious. "That does not mean I'm going to neglect my duty. I will fight for the resources our army needs."

I relax, feeling much better. He is such a good man. I am not alone. I feel so charitable toward him at the moment, I even overlook the fact that he just now called me stubborn. "I know, and that's why I'm glad you're here." At his skeptical look, I amend, "_One_ of the reasons, at any rate." I contemplate the pile of armor at my feet. "Where _is _your squire?" I ask.

"The boy hasn't been feeling well, so I left him in the care of Cook." Rightly gauging my concerned expression, he adds, "Too many wild berries. If he'd needed a healer, I would've brought him to you."

I nod, satisfied, and look down at the armor once again. "I suppose we'd better get you into this."

All told, it takes a full quarter hour to buckle, tie, and clamp Cullen into his armor. Finally, the last strap is in place, the outer garb perfectly draped, and he is once again my General, the man who owned my heart at first sight. Holy Maker, what is it about a man in uniform? I give in to my usual appreciative little sigh and he grins like a ten-year-old, ruining the whole effect but stealing my heart all over again. "You mentioned something about a _parade _of people this morning, didn't you?" he says as he takes his sword from the rack and slides it home in its scabbard.

"Oh yes. Varric was there toward the end. And Cass," I answer. I let my dressing gown fall to the floor. I see a small glint spark to life in his eye and I quickly pull on my enchanter's robe. If we start anything now, we'll be all day getting out of this room.

He watches most of me disappear under heavy brocade before giving me a look full of promises to be kept later. I shiver in anticipation, and he winks before finishing his train of thought. "We shouldn't talk to Varric about this..._us_...unless we want to be his next best seller, which I do _not._ Ever again. It's bad enough when he invents it. If he were to _truly _violate our privacy…" He lets the thought trail off, but he does not need to finish it. Cullen is an extremely private man and has first hand experience with Varric's storytelling. He would especially not want any details of _our _story spread out on the pages of some raunchy novel for all to see.

"That makes two of us," I agree. I silently vow to be more careful around Varric. I sit to lace my boots as Cullen cleans up our breakfast mess. He carries the tray out of the room, returning it to the kitchen. I finish dressing, comb my hair, and douse the lamps. I grab my staff and Cullen's helm on the way out the door...he is forever forgetting it. Making my way down the corridor, I hear voices in the kitchen. It's Varric and Cullen. Curious, I ease closer to the door…

"Come on, Ser Dreamy, you have to lighten up sometime. Just tell me, when did you first know it was true love?" Varric needles.

"Stop calling me that, Varric. And I am not talking to you about the Inquisitor, and that is the end of it," Cullen states, obviously resolved.

Varric chuckles. "So you don't deny it's true love, then?"

There's a sound, like someone choking or...snarling? I hurry into the kitchen to put an end to whatever murder is taking place. I encounter no violence, but I am no less alarmed. Varric is standing there grinning at Cullen, who is… well, it sounds like he's _growling_. Can Varric not see the clenched fists? Or that look on Cullen's face? I step between them, and Cullen acknowledges me, his expression calming somewhat. And he stops making that infernal racket, thank the Maker. I turn to Varric with a glare. Varric gives a slight nod, and still smiling, strolls out of the kitchen. I turn back to my outraged General. His cheeks are flushed and he's scowling. I take a step closer and stroke his heated face, running my thumb over the scar on his lip in the process, unable to help myself. Turning into my comforting hand, he kisses my palm. "What was that little scene?" I ask.

"I let him get to me," Cullen admits. He sounds so disappointed in himself and he rubs the back of his neck wearily. "I swore to myself I wouldn't, but I let it happen." He frowns. "I can make light of it, but I do not like that they're thinking about you like that. That they're picturing us…." He leaves the sentence hanging, shaking his head.

I give him his helm, and with both hands pull him down to me, kissing him on the mouth. "It's probably the highlight of their year, sunshine," I tease. "Let them have their fun. I'm not ashamed."

He inhales sharply. "Neither am I, Trevelyan. Is that what you think? That what I have found with you _shames _me? Siren, I would shout it from the rooftops. Certainly you know that. But we're the subject of gossip, and _that _doesn't sit well."

It occurs to me that perhaps he would be happier if we had been more actively open from the very beginning. I smile and give his earlobe a tug. "I know. Remember what you just told me? It's bound to get easier, but for now unfortunately, it's the nature of the beast. And we have bigger fish to fry, I think." I glance toward the door. "Come on. Put your game face on, Cul. It's time."


	4. Chapter 4

The last to arrive - we _are _a few minutes late - we enter the War Room together. As I approach the map table, the others bow awkwardly with varying degrees of enthusiasm. I despise the forced deference. It makes me uncomfortable every time. I clear my throat. "Good morning all. Let's get right to it, shall we? Leliana, I hope you have a good plan." I lean over and tap the map, indicating our next target on the opposite side of the table. She is prepared for me and launches into her proposal. I realize as I'm straightening the view I am availing Cullen and I sneak a glance. The tiny upward curve to one side of his sweet mouth is the only sign that he notices.

As Leliana is winding up what turns out to be a very agreeable strategy, a uniformed messenger arrives in haste and heads directly for Cullen. They speak quietly for a moment, and I see the sudden tension in Cullen's shoulders. He turns his eyes to me, a silent question in their depths. "Of course, General. I have things well in hand here. Go. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, Herald," he says, bowing slightly and heading toward the courtyard in one smooth motion. He halts mid-stride and turns back. "Last evening, we discussed the darkspawn…"

"I remember," I assure him softly. He smiles and nods once, departing swiftly.

I watch him go, my eyes lingering warmly, before turning back to my team. They are all looking at me rather pointedly. "What?" I ask. There are grumbles of "nothing" and "not a thing." And a lot of shuffling. I sigh. If I were truly brave, if I were at all confident in this fledgling position of authority, then I would face the issue head on, make my stand here and now, and claim my right to have a personal life. But I do none of those things. "Thank you, Leliana," I say, as if the uncomfortable moment had not occurred. "I think you should depart tonight after sunset. I will be on your heels in the morning. Cassandra, Varric, and…yes, Dorian, I would have you accompany me." They seem pleased. I suppose that is _something_. "Also, Blackwall, I am hoping you'd be willing to give our soldiers some advice on combating the darkspawn. Patrols have begun to run into them, and it seems to be causing some anxiety. I know Ser Cullen would appreciate your taking the edge off of it, if you could."

"Of course, my lady," Blackwall replies, "I will check with the General to set a convenient time?" He smiles. It seems he is grateful for the task and I am grateful he is here.

"That will be wonderful. Thank you." As everyone files out, I make a mental note to give Cullen leave to consult with the man ad libitum. He must surely be a treasure trove of knowledge.

At the evening meal, Cullen still has not returned. Exhausted from preparations for my journey on the morrow, I sit at the table on the dais picking at my trencher, ever conscious of the empty seat on my right. The roast venison is by all accounts delicious, but my appetite fails me.

The hall is noisy this evening. To my left, Leliana animatedly discusses the latest fashion with Josephine. Her attention, however, is everywhere. Nothing will happen in this hall without her notice, and I see the same level of vigilance in Cassandra, who occupies the second seat to my right. Their competency brings me a great deal of comfort. I have an excellent team. Still, I am antsy. What is taking Cullen so long?

"_Ruffles!?_ Ruffles haven't been in for three seasons," proclaims Leliana with a derisive snort to a clearly outraged Josie.

"Ah! That does not signify," counters my diplomat. "Ruffles are classic. Timeless!"

Further down, Vivienne is shaking her head. "Ruffles, my darlings, should _never _be _in_. Ever," she says with authority.

"_What?!_" exclaim my two present advisers, now united on the issue.

I look to Cass, and she rolls her eyes. I answer her with a small distracted smile and shrug, commiserating with her apparent sentiment. She glances at Cullen's empty chair, and then raises her brows at me, silently asking the same question that has plagued me for the better part of the day. I frown, shaking my head, and she turns her eyes toward the door. She, too, now wears a worried frown. And I have a headache.

Two hours later, my maid wraps a linen towel around my wet hair and steps back from the huge copper tub. A former slave most lately in the employ of the Champion of Kirkwall, she was recommended to me by Varric. I neither need nor want a lady's maid, but her tale moved me, and so now she is employed by me, serving the Inquisition as part of the Skyhold staff. She has proved to be indispensable, and for this at least I'm grateful to Varric. "Thank you, Orana," I say with a smile, "That will be all for tonight. You are free to seek your own amusement."

"Yes, Mistress," the petite elf replies, bobbing a small curtsy, and then she is gone. She has left two buckets of extra water, one of which is heating over the fire, but my bath is still very warm and so I leave it where it is for now. Instead of enjoying the luxury like a sane person, I give in to my worry. My after-dinner visit to the barracks had yielded no answers, as Cullen had not been there and information was sketchy. There was talk of extra patrols and no more. I sigh. Just as I am about to give up on the rest of my bath, the door opens and my lover prowls into the dim chamber. My relief is overwhelming, but one look at his face shows me that he must have had an absolute ogre of a day.

He stalks over to his desk and slaps a hefty pile of reports on top of his logbook. Anger etches lines in his forehead and between his eyebrows as he approaches the makeshift altar by the window. He gracelessly sinks to his knees, lights a candle, and bows his head. His movements are abrupt and his body is thrumming with a palpable nervous energy. I have seen him like this only rarely. It's rather..._daunting_. But his lips are moving silently now, and slowly his tense body unwinds. After a few minutes, he lifts his head, but does not rise.

"Cullen?" My voice is softer than I intend, but he hears it. He looks around and finds me, the corner of his mouth turning up a little in a ghost of a smile. All in all, rather encouraging. "Come join me, sunshine," I coax. "The water is still warm."

He considers. "I am filthy, siren," he says at last, "I should wait until you're finished." Without further argument I stand in all my naked glory, water streaming down my limbs, and he stares. I love that he still stares. "Trevelyan. That is not fair play. I am in my armor," he pleads, holding his arms out to his sides.

"That can be remedied. Come here, Cul. I'll help you." I can be rather convincing. He breaks into a full smile, shaking his head in defeat. He stands and moves to my side. I often struggle considerably whenever I must get him into this get up, but I do not suffer similar issues when getting him _out_. It's funny really, how that works. My hands deftly unbuckle, untie, and unlatch at record speed. Pieces of armor fall one by one to floor with dull clanks.

Shortly, he is pouring the extra bucket of hot water into the tub. As he eases into the opposite end, he closes his eyes and utters a moan so blissful I can barely stand it. He leans back and gets comfortable, legs twining with mine. "Now I will smell like lavender," he says with his eyes still closed.

I can't help but giggle at the grudging resignation in his voice. "You'd end up smelling like me regardless, sunshine," I counter. I shift my position so I am kneeling between his legs in front of him. I lather the washcloth and begin to wash his shoulders. Thankfully, he sighs and accepts this simple comfort without protest.

When I have washed every speck of this evidently wretched day from his body and hair - and otherwise relieved his tension as only a lover can - he stands without a word and gets out of the tub, splashing water everywhere. I watch, bemused and appreciating the view. He fetches two large towels from the linen armoire, drying his hair with one and then wrapping it around his waist. Bringing the other to the tub's side, he holds it up for me and I step out, allowing him to wrap me in the soft cloth. He then takes my hand and leads me to my vanity table where he picks up the brush, quickly smooths his hair back, and then escorts me to the plush rug in front of the fire. He drops to the cushions we keep there and motions for me to join him. Once I am comfortable, he uncovers my hair and begins to gently brush it. And he tells me about his day.

"Early this morning, before dawn, one of our patrols spotted a scouting party of Red Templars. Our people followed them, but...somehow...we lost them. After that, we searched all day." He pauses, gingerly untangling a particularly difficult snarl before continuing. "I went out myself. We came across an area...there was evidence of a much larger contingent. The remains of a camp with signs of least three dozen horses...perhaps ten tents...and several fires. They hadn't even _tried _to cover it up. How we missed them, I don't…." He grunts in frustration. "They left a trail, and I tracked them for a few miles. It circled around...and then it melted away...just _disappeared_. It is _much _too close to Skyhold for my comfort. I don't understand it...and I don't like it."

The pull of the brush, the bristles running across my scalp...these things are so soothing that they temper my reaction to his words. This news is very bad, though. I don't like it either. "Are you sure that it was the Red Templars?" I ask.

"A force that big? Here? It must be. The scouting party almost confirms it." He sounds so certain. He is silent for a several strokes of the brush before he continues. "Trevelyan, I'm concerned for your safety. I wish to go with you tomorrow."

I wish for him to go with me tomorrow, too. I might be safer out there and away from Skyhold at the moment than I am here...and so would Cullen, thus my wish to have him with me. But holding this keep is too important, and there is no one I can truly trust with that responsibility other than my sword arm. I turn to him with regret in my eyes. "Cullen, I need you here." He glowers. I move closer and wrap my arms around him. "You know your first duty is to Skyhold. The Inquisition is lost without it."

He pulls me into his lap and hugs me tight, but anger laces his voice. "My first duty is to _you_. The Inquisition is lost without _you_," he argues. Quietly he adds, "And so am I."

I kiss his cheek tenderly. "As I would be without you," I whisper. "But we will continue to survive because we have so much to survive _for_." The moment feels too desperate for me, and I recoil from it. I scramble to my feet and pour two glasses of wine.

As I set his goblet on the hearth, Cullen laughs grimly. "I have not attended the logbook, Trevelyan. There's a stack of reports an inch thick that I have not sorted or annotated for you yet. My armor lies dirty…," he glances at it and adds, "in a puddle. I should not…"

I place two fingers on his lips, silencing his excuses. "There. That's better," I say. "Drink your wine. You can write your entry before bed. I will go through the reports blind. If I have questions, Cul, I can ask...you are right here. And we will clean your armor together to make faster work of it. So drink." He smiles against my fingers and picks up his wine. Satisfied, I carry my goblet to the window, taking a seat upon the sill. I feel his intense regard as he sips from his glass.

"I think the first time I saw you...I mean, really _saw _you...you were sitting there, touched by the firelight just as you are now," he recalls.

I smile at him as I remember, too. I remember his soft sound of distress at finding me perched so recklessly on the window's ledge. I remember the surprised widening of his eyes as I turned toward him, and the carnal heat that had fleetingly filled them before he had been able to shutter it. "That was our first night at Skyhold...not so long ago, really. I nearly froze my toes off waiting for you. I thought you'd never show up."

"What? How did you -," he begins, confounded.

I giggle at his indignation. "I like to sit in this window for a reason, sunshine. I can see everything. And that was what I was doing...sitting here seeing everything, when the lone scout arrived that evening. I assumed that you'd bring a report, and so I just...waited. Only you took so long, I almost gave up."

He gets to his feet and joins me at the window, leaning on the frame. Reaching down and running a strand of my hair through his fingers, he asks, "So you knew, then, that I could see right through that silly piece of nothing you were wearing?"

I give him an unladylike snort. "You have no idea. I'd nearly despaired that you'd notice me...as a woman, I mean. That negligee was a gift I'd given myself...for my secret trousseau...but after the Fade..." I sigh. "The truth is that I wanted you to see me not as the Inquisitor or the Herald, but as just..._me_. I'd not counted on being so...embarrassed. I knew I'd gone way too far as soon as I stood and faced you, but...what could I do except carry on? And then...well, you didn't look away, did you Cullen? You stood right there while I fumbled into my dressing gown and took in every inch of me, cheeky as you please. You weren't appalled or outraged or disgusted. You even stayed and finished your wine. You _smiled_. At that point, it was the single most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me."

He chuckles softly, gently tipping my face up with a finger under my chin. "I've never been so attracted to anyone in my life. You quite awed me. And later, when I realized how easy you are to talk to, to just _be _around, I knew I was in trouble, siren. I was completely aware of where our path was headed, and for once I didn't have the slightest intention of trying to avoid it."

"I'm glad you didn't," I tell him. I want to say so much more, but instead I simply take his hand in mine, willing him to _feel _me loving him. He squeezes my fingers and pulls me to my feet so that he can hold me. We finish our wine in comfortable silence, enjoying the view from our window.


End file.
